The Legend of Mack
by Badrang3
Summary: Join Grizzly Bear Mack as he battles fear, injustice, tragic pasts, political correctness, annoying teenagers, and the vicous Cossack Horde of Vlad the Bad!
1. Cruel, Cool Cossacks

Old Apple Down was a happy little village, named after an incident when its founder, Rotundus Apple, fell down. Not the most historic event in the world perhaps, but it was all the village critters had to go on. Theirs was a backwards town in the middle of no where, where they heard nothing of the rest of the world, and cared little about it. No, these animals were content to farm, fish, and occasionally host a disco (backwards, but very hip). There was little to no organization as to where houses were placed, due to a lack of a town square or sidewalks, so huts were placed at random locations, though their builders always minded to keep them within walking distance of the others, lest someone set up shop outside the borders. Inside the town, children laughed and played while seniors relaxed in their rocking chairs, basking in the sun. Yes, truly Old Apple Down was the happiest village in the world, destined to be the happiest place in history.

And it darn well would have been just that if not for the sudden evening invasion of Cossacks.

Yes, the scurvy rat Cossacks of the north, who knew nothing about the ways of the world and cared little about it. Really, considering their like mindset, the Cossacks should have gotten along fairly well with the Apple Downers. But these rats were not in the habit of making friends, farming, or knitting quilts (They tried, but they could never figure out how to hold the needles). Besides, that would only take time away from their favourite hobby, looting and pillaging! Good clean fun! And that's just what they were doing to Old Apple Down this very evening, burning houses, eating the inhabitant's food, and breaking all the disco balls they could find (Cossacks hate disco).

One rat in particular had a mouse a spear point, who had gone back into his house to save his white sequined vest. The Cossack laughed a cruel laugh. "Well, well, well, mousey, what say we open up a little old Disco Inferno on that house of yours and throw you in, hm?"

The mouse shook his head wildly. "No! No! Anything but that! The flames would ruin my shoes! And they cost a lot! I mean, really, these things are darn comfortable. I had to shell out a good fifty dollars for them. Worth every penny, I assure you. Not a blister in sight since I got them! Now, my cousin, he wears these wooden clogs, and every week he…"

"Shut up!" the rat roared, silencing the stylish mouse. "I don't give a darn about your... about your…" He looked down at his own boots, which had holes in both soles, looked around to see if any one was looking, as whispered. "Give me the shoes and you're off the hook."

"Done." The mouse quickly removed his shoes and handed them to the rat, then moonwalked out of sight.

Sadly, other such deals were not applicable to the rest of the townsfolk, as many of them were pummelled about the head and shoulders by the viscous Cossacks. Content that everything remotely related to disco had been systematically destroyed in the raid, the Cossacks herded to Downers in a circle, awaiting an appearance by their leader.

Once all the townsfolk were gathered in a circle, a female squirrel gave a large wail. "Oh please, sirs, do not kill us, for we are but humble folk, good natured and kind!"

Her husband patted her on the soldier. "Don't waste your time pleading to these mongrels, Deodry, for they have no pity. No, now that they have us at their mercy, they shall unleash cruel and inhuman ways of torture on us! First, they will take our toes, and slowly break each and every single one of them, and then make us run!"

Two nearby rats gave a small malicious smile at this thought, but the squirrel went on. "And then, after we have dropped in exhaustion and pain, they will string us up with fish hooks attached to our shoulders and raise us from a beam, allowing the blood to trickle and flow down our beaten and weary bodies, while crows and insects come to mangle and devour our innards in a red, oozing mess!"

The rats looked shocked. "Here now, mate, it probably won't come to that…"

"But they shall not end there, oh no! After they take us down, they shall insert a long wooden pole clear through our spines, and slowly cook us on a spit, while our flesh and fur crackle and burn in a blistering, fuming mass, whilst our pores over flow with puss and refuse!"

One of the rats took this moment to throw up while the wife swooned. "Oh, I am too young to be rotisseried! Will not some one rescue us?"

The remaining rat prodded the husband with his spear. "Will you stop that? You're going to make me ill! Now hush up, the head rat is here!" 

He was particularly short with big ears, not at all similar to the warlords of old. On his head he wore a tall fur hat with flaps covering said large hearing devices. He wore a large fluffy coat made of kitten pelts (oh yes, this was one bad dude) which trailed along the ground as he walked. But anything comical about his appearance was not found funny by the Apple Downers, who quivered in fear.

Content that this long dramatic pause had gone on long enough, the rat spoke in his squeaky voice, "Well! What do we have here! Looks like your little town has been smushed like a rotten apple!" He laughed at his own pun, though no one else found it amusing in the least; his own soldiers hated the puns their leader was apt to make. Taking no notice of the apparent lack of humour in the crowd, the head rat kept it up. "Hey, hey, I've got another one! If you've all just come out of an Old Apple, then I guess that makes you all worms, huh? Huh? Oh, I've got a million of them tonight…"

Another rat nudged his leader. "Uh, sir, as much as I hate to interrupt your… jocularity, I think we should carry on with the villainous speech."

"Yes, you're quite right," nodded the head rodent, getting his mirth under control, and tried his hardest to look stern. "You fuzzy little woodlanders are the first to witness the might of the Cossack rats! But don't you worry, you will soon have company. For it was written on the wall of the Gent's Restroom that one day, the Cossacks would rule the world, under the leadership of me, Vlad the Bad!"

If he was expecting a gasp of horror at the name, he didn't get it. Most of the captured critters looked at one another in confusion, trying to see if their comrades knew who this loon was. One otter spoke up. "Vlad the Bad? Not a very vermin leader type name, is it? How about something sinister, like Bloodspurter the Horrific!"

Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Would you name your kid something like Bloodspurter?"

The otter lowered his head in shame. "No, no, I suppose not."

One of the hedgehogs gasped. "Hang on a minute, are those kitten pelts you're wearing?"

Vlad grinned. "Why, yes."

"You sick little…"

"Language! I can't abide swearing. So uncouth!" The rat clapped his paws. "Good, no more of that silliness. Now, since you are all my slaves, I hereby order you to build a really big statue of myself, with the engraving 'We've been had by Vlad the Bad, and now we're sad.' Eh? Pretty good, huh? Took me days to figure that one out. Anyway, after you're done that…"

"I object!" a high pitched voice cried. Approaching the Cossack leader out of the night came a bespectacled vole carrying a very large book under his arm. There was silence for a few moments as all the animals in the area stared in awe at the new comer, until Vlad finally said, "Uh, hey there, bud. Who might you be?"

The vole adjusted his glasses. "I'm Irving, the Politically Correct and Highly Educated Bankvole, and I object to this story!"

There was another long silence, once again broken by Vlad. "…Why?"

"It is clear to me that the villains are solely consisted of rats. This is SO typical of these stories. Rats and other vermin are ALWAYS portrayed as bad guys." The voles random emphasizing of words caused the crowd to wince, as if Irving was trying to bore into their skulls (emphasis on the word "bore.").

"…So?"

"SO?!" Irving shrieked. "That's just the uneducated answer I expected from you low brow types! (A few shouts of anger showed that the creatures present did not enjoy being referred to as low brow) This is yet ANOTHER attempt to make the story black and white! Good good guys and bad bad guys! Oh, it makes my highly superb mind woozy!"

Vlad stared at the vole, and once again sounded the question on everyone's mind. "…So?"

"SO!?" The vole shrieked yet again, causing a nearby window to shatter. "This will destroy the minds of the youth of the world! They must be subjected to inner turmoil and proper motivation! We can't have them just accepting that you're an evil nut out for conquest!"

"But I am just an evil nut out for conquest."

"AND you're a rat! How VERY original! Why must rats ALWAYS be made evil?!"

Vlad looked puzzled. "Look kid, I can't help it if I'm a rat AND I want to conquer the world. That's just the way the cookie crumbles, you know? I mean, someone has to be the villain. Other wise the plot would go no where fast!" Before Irving could complain again, the rat leaned in. "Look, are you sure you're not reading into this too much? I mean, we're not gunning for greatest work of literature of all time here. It's just… cops and robbers, you know? Good versus evil. A nice simple story with lots of fighting and heroic deeds. Would you call shenadigans on Robin Hood and King Arthur and those guys?"

"But you horde leaders are ALWAYS made out to be emotionless scoundrels! Isn't there any moral qualms in you at ALL?"

Vlad waited a moment, walked over to the prisoners, stabbed one with a spear, walked back in front of Irving, and smiled. "Nope."

The vole crossed his arms. "I don't care. Unless there's some kind of moral conflict among your own rats, I won't allow this tale to continue."

Vlad rolled his eyes and called his Cossacks into a huddle. After a few moments the dispersed and formed in a small line. Vlad gave a cough and then, in a very monotone voice, started to speak. "Alright gang, we are going to take over the world. Ha ha ha."

One rat stepped forward out of the line and addressed to Apple Downers in something akin to a five year old explaining the importance of dairy in the school play. "No, no, I can't do this. It is against my moral code. We should let them go free."

Vlad gave the rat a blatant stage slap. "What are you talking about? We must destroy them all, for we are very evil by nature."

"I disagree. I believe that we can all get along. I have… uh…"

"Misgivings," a voice whispered.

"…misgivings about this plan, but I shall try to keep a balance between my good side and bad." A round of applause went up from the woodlanders as the rats gave a small bow. Vlad turned to Irving. "Happy?"

The vole sighed. "I SUPPOSE that will do for now. Just watch it, that's all." And with that, the Politically Correct Bank vole scurried off.

"Watch more action movies!" Vlad yelled after him, and then turned his attention to the prisoners. "Honestly, why can't people just sit back and enjoy a good old fashioned shoot-'em-up like they used to without groping around for hidden meanings? Sorry about that, gang. Now where was I…? Oh yes, any one have any good suggestions of where we should head next?"

The townsfolk mulled this over for a bit, until a hedgehog piped up, "Ooh, I know! How about that old Abbey over in Mossflower! I hear it's one of THE places to conquer this year!"

Vlad looked blankly for a moment. "Abbey?" he murmured, then snapped his fingers. "Herman, dictionary definition!"

A tall rat took out a small pocket dictionary he carried at all times. "Let's see here, abbacy, abbatial… here it is, abbey: A building occupied by a community of monks or nuns. Sound pretty boring to me."

"Meh. Might be good for a laugh or two. Alright, you lot, get to work on my statue!" yelled Vlad. "For My Cossacks and I have a date with the Pope!"

"Abbot."

"Abbot, sorry. Yes, those furry little rodents will soon realize that they will have the divine pleasure of seeing Vlad the Bad and his Cossacks! Ah ha ha! Wa ha ha! WAAAAAH Ha ha ha ha! HAAAA…."

"Sir, I think that's enough."

"Right then, let's clear off."


	2. Meet Mack

From East and West, North and South, there was one name that could be sounded that would result in the pure of heart rejoicing and the wicked fleeing in terror: Mack the Warrior! Through the seasons, this brave hero did many deeds of valour; freeing slaves, destroying tyranny, smiting the evil, and bringing peace to where ever he went. Armed with a sacred diamond sword in which the power of the earth was bestowed, he was unbeatable in battle, neatly destroying any foolhardy enough to get in his way in a manner of seconds. His fur shone of the brightest gold, his eyes as clear as brisk morning dew. Yes, truly, Mack was the greatest protagonist the world had ever seen!

Sadly, that Mack is not featured in this story.

The Mack in question was a bear, both literally and figuratively. He was short tempered, surly, some what lazy at times, sarcastic, and not the sort of neighbour you would borrow a cup of sugar from. Still, despite his gruff attitude, he really was a nice old chap, when the mood took him. He despised shiny things, preferring to wear a dark grey coat over a red shirt, with large brown hiking boots. The only weapon our Mack carried on him was a sledge hammer, simple and plain, much like its owner, which he kept strapped to his back.

No, Mack wasn't really much of a hero at all, not that he really wanted to be in the first place. He was convinced that saving the world caused heart attacks and unwanted calls from solicitors, and tried to stay away from it as much as possible. But there wasn't much chance of any unwanted heroic deeds at the moment. He was wandering the flat lands west of Mossflower Woods, his morning constitutional having gotten dangerously out of hand. What had started out as a short stroll to the drug store to pick up some aspirin had resulted in a full scale lost. Mack didn't understand exactly how it happened; one moment the sidewalk was there, the next minute it was gone!

Still, the bear remembered one particular life lesson his dad had taught him: "Whenever you're lost or under attack by a squadron of tanks, the best thing you can do is call the cops or sing a song." It should be noted that Mack's father was a bit of a loon, and thus prone to saying random and completely stupid things. But Mack took the lesson to heart, and now that he was lost and had no way of calling the cops, the only thing he could do was compose a song of his very own. Besides, the bear liked singing, and soon erupted in a wonderful, bass voice:

"Shananana doo lang doo lang

Shananana doo lang doo lang

Ah zeepedy zap zep a zing zow

Zaz a fraz zip a zip zip zow

Zah shang a lang zing zong

Za ziggedy shlip shlow

A doobey doo doo wop

For hours on end, yeah!"

Sadly, although he liked to sing, Mack had no actual talent what so ever, either as a lyricist or as a vocalist. But as he had the ability to kill small animals with his toes, no one had worked up the courage to tell him.

And so he continued his poor rendition of scat while he strolled, until suddenly, unexpectedly (obviously, or it wouldn't have been very sudden), a strange new figure appeared in front of him. It was a squirrel, that much was apparent, but down it's backs was a long, dark blue stripe which went nicely with his black fur. He wore a violet robe tied at the waist, and on one of his paws he wore a wrist band (which immediately brought up the question, "couldn't he afford the other one?") Down the side of his face was a long scar, creating a sense of gruffness in contrast to his pretty blue eyes. All in all, he looked very cool.

Cool, or suspiciously annoying…

The squirrel raised a paw in the direction of Mack. "I was alerted to your presence with both my senses and the sound of that warbling noise. I've not seen you around these parts before! It's my sworn duty to protect this country from evil, as proclaimed by my master. So if you are a wicked creature who wishes harm to others, come no further, for I will deliver swift retribution!"

The two creatures stared at one another for a few seconds, until Mack finally grumbled, "Get out of my way before I rip your face off, kid."

The squirrel laughed. "Oh ho! So you think you can handle me, Sharang Dragontail? Well, although you are larger than I, I have defeated multiple hordes with only my…"

"Woah woah woah, hold it right there," Mack interrupted. "What did you say your name was?"

"Sharang Dragontail, ninja of the ages!"

"You're kidding."

"No."

The two were silent for a few seconds, until Mack said, "Well, Sharang, I hope you don't mind my asking, but are you aware of the, oh how do I put this, absurdity of your John Hancock?"

"What?"

"That's a ridiculous name. I mean, who names their kid Sharang Dragontail? Sounds like some kind of cruel trick to me."

The squirrel glared. "Yes, I'm sure it would seem rather odd to a cultureless idiot like you! I'll have you know both my name and every thing I carry on me is an article representing power and mystique."

"That reminds me, why are you only wearing one arm band? Did you lose the other one, was it too expensive, what?"

Sharang eye's flashed red (which, incidentally, caused Mack to think the squirrel's eyes were bleeding for a second). "You dare to mock me? You talk pretty big, bear. I believe you might be a worthy foe yet. That is, if you are not too much of a coward to fight me!" And with this, the squirrel struck a pose that he probably thought to be very impressive, with one hand making a fist while the other held a rose, which Sharang took a moment to smell.

Mack rolled his eyes. "Oh wow, you've got a rose. Boy, am I terrified of your manliness. Any ways kid, I've really got better things to do than engage in a slap fight with silly wannabe samuri, or ninjas, or whatever is hip these days. Now why don't you run off with your strange little friends and go slay a dragon or two?"

"Hoooeah!" The squirrel sounded a strange, unintelligible cry and suddenly drew and elaborately carved sword out of midair. It had many dips and curves in the blade, so much that Mack thought it was actually eaten away by rust. Sharang gave it a few fancy twirls. "This is my sacred blade, Nobuelki! It has been handed down through my clan for ages, wielded only by true warriors! It is enfused with the power of fire, and with it I can destroy any one and anything! Hooah!" He ended off with a dramatic flourish and pointed the blade towards Mack.

The bear blinked for a few moments just to make sure this wasn't some kind of joke, than took out his sledge hammer, and attempted to make some small circles with it, which was not easy to do. "Uh, this is my sledge hammer, which I call… I don't know, bludgeoning device, or something. I bought at the hard ware store a few days ago, for only twenty bucks, so I thought it was a pretty good deal. And with it I can… heck, I don't know, hammer pegs into the ground. I suppose I could play croquet with it if I tried…"

Suddenly, with agility many would agree to be impossible under any circumstance, Sharang dashed straight into Mack, neatly sliced the buttons off his coat, and nicked a whisker off the bear's face. Executing an unnecessary back flip, the squirrel gave a laugh. "Well well, aren't we slow? What's the matter, suddenly realized that… Ooof!"

Sharang fell to the ground upon receiving a hefty blow to the face from the fist of Mack. The bear glared at the ninja. "You ruined a one hundred and ten dollar coat, you addle brained, idiotic ball of fluff! Now listen, I've just about had all I can take from you, so bugger off or I'll wreck so much havoc on your noggin that even the most sadistic dentist will wince at the damages!"

The squirrel stood up and smiled insolently, which not only meant that he was going to keep up this fight, but he was probably going to do yet another speech. "Oh don't worry, bear, I have not yet begun to fight!" He waved his fancy sword in a strange manner, and suddenly the blade burst into flame! "Now you will see my true power!"

Mack stared at the flaming implement. "Uh, kid? Your sword's on fire. You might want to put that out, or something."

"It's supposed to be on fire, fool! For this is Nobuelki, infused with the power of fire, which has been…"

"Yeah, I know. We did the whole weapon speech thing already. But doesn't it get too hot to hold? Or does the single arm band nullify that?"

Sharang pointed the sword tip towards Mack. "Now it's time to end this! You are just one of the many fools who think they have the power to cope with the likes of me. But know this, though it will be the last thing you will ever learn, none can defeat me! For I am…"

There was a sharp clang as the sledge hammer struck the sword in a horizontal sweep, knocking it out of Sharang's paws and sent it soaring clear out of sight. Mack watched it disappear, then turned to the squirrel. "You know, if you weren't so bent on doing your monologue, there's a good chance you'd have seen that coming."

Sharang's eyes shot daggers at the bear. "Very well, scum, do with me what you will." Without wasting a second, Mack belted the squirrel upside the head. "What did you do that for?!" he asked bewilderedly.

Mack stared down at the ninja, his annoyance very apparent. "You told me to do with you what I will. Frankly, I really want to kill you, but like it says in my character description, I'm a nice chap when the mood suits me. So I'm going to let you live to tap dance another day."

Much to his surprise, Sharang got up and bowed. "Well, that's very kind of you. Not that you could, of course." The squirrel dashed to the bear's side. "Since you are going to 'spare' my life, I think I will aid you in your quest. You could use a warrior of my calibre."

Mack's eyes lit up at the word quest, and not in a good way. He grabbed Sharang by his neck. "No! I am NOT going on a quest! I just stepped out to go by a bottle of aspirin, and I am NOT going to save the world!"

"Oh please, you're wandering about the middle of no where with a hammer and you're telling me this isn't an adventure?"

"NO!" Mack roared. Then regaining his composure, he put the squirrel down. "Alright, you can tag along until I find what I'm looking for, but let me make it perfectly clear, we're not doing anything heroic today."

Sharang nodded. "Of course, of course." Still mistrustful of his traveling companion, the bear continued to walk in the straight line he had been going, with a million thoughts going through his mind. Where was he? Where was the drug store? How could he shake this unwanted pest? Had he left the oven on? What was the score in the big game?

Little did our melancholy protagonist know, he was about to have much more important things on his mind very shortly…


End file.
